Рита Браун - Santa Clawed

“Any of them find the body?” Doak answered.

“No,” Cooper responded. “Harry and Fair found it. Fair said the other person here who left with a tree was Alex Corbett. I’ll question him later.”

“I found it.” Tucker puffed out her chest.

“Actually, Tucker and Mrs. Murphy found the body.

Tucker brought the rope that tied his robe,” Harry corrected the deputy.

“I really am going to have to put that dog and cat on the payroll.” Rick smiled down at the two animals, then sighed. “Gang, looks like we’ll be working harder than usual this holiday.”

“I don’t mind pulling extra hours,” Cooper volunteered.

Rick looked down at Brother Sheldon. “Guess we’d better get him up. We need a statement.”

Fair again hoisted up the brother, who weighed two hundred fifty pounds, much of it fat. Life was good at the monastery.

“Oh-h-h.” Brother Sheldon’s eyelids fluttered, then popped open.

“Gonna puke?” Rick asked.

“No.”Tears rolled down the portly man’s cheeks.

“I know this is difficult, but I must ask you some questions.”

Brother Sheldon nodded.

“Do you need a drink or anything?” Fair asked. He usually carried a cooler in his truck, as he never knew how long he’d be on a call.

“No.” Brother Sheldon shook his head.

“When was the last time you saw Brother Christopher?” Rick asked with a reassuring voice.

“Breakfast. He wasn’t here when I arrived at six. At first I thought he was digging up trees, balling them or putting them in buckets. We like to have a few that can be planted ready to go.”

“Did you hear equipment?”

“No. The place filled up with people, so I didn’t look too hard for him.” Brother Sheldon cried. “I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe it.”

“Do you have any ideas who might have done this?” Rick asked.

“Sheriff, he was relatively new to our order. A year, perhaps a few months more. He was in pain for having caused pain. When he came to us and accepted Christ, truly accepted Christ in his heart, he began to heal. He was such a likable man.”

“He was. I can vouch for that, what I knew of him,” Fair commented.

“You knew him from the monastery?” Rick continued scribbling in his open notebook.

“High school. He was two years behind me, a year behind my wife.”

“Has anyone shown up at the monastery to speak to Brother Christopher that you hadn’t seen before?” Rick kept prodding Brother Sheldon.

“No. People don’t usually go up the mountain. Especially in winter. Roads are treacherous. If someone visits us, it’s usually down at the hospice. Keeping the monastery separate allows us contemplation.”

“I see. Brother Sheldon, go home.” Rick patted him on the back. “Someone from the department will be up tomorrow to”—he chose his words carefully—“enlist help from the brothers. We will find whoever did this. I promise you, we will.”

Tears again filled Brother Sheldon’s eyes. “Think how this will upset children. Christmas is such a happy time, and the media will... well, you know how they are. Children don’t need to know such things.” He emitted a long, sorrowful sigh. “They’re not allowed their innocence anymore.”

“I agree, Brother, I agree.” Rick patted him on the back again while giving a slight nod to Doak, who had returned from getting customers’ statements.

Doak knew his boss’s messages well. He gently put his hand under Brother Sheldon’s elbow. “Come on, Brother. I’ll take you to your car.”

“I have to close up the place first.”

“I’ll help you. And if you need someone to drive you home, just tell me. A shock like this can make you wobbly.”

“It can. I never imagined such a thing.” The floodgates opened, and Doak walked with the brother back toward the lighted square.

Fair watched the slumping figure as the two men walked away. “Taking it hard.”

Rick looked up at the tall vet. “Any ideas?”

“Only the obvious.”

“Which is?”

“The killer is safe and sound and very effectively camouflaged.”

“What makes you say that?” Cooper trusted Fair as a levelheaded person.

“Either he’s miles down the road or he’s sitting at home in Crozet, pleased with himself. This is a very cool customer. He walked right in here, killed quickly and silently, and walked right out without attracting notice.”

“You’re right.” Rick smiled at Fair. “You might make a cop, know that?”

“Couldn’t do it. But I’m a vet and I’m trained to observe without emotion if possible. Took some effort in this circumstance.”

“It’s always a shock when you know the victim,” Rick repeated his earlier feeling.

Once back in the truck, Harry realized that they hadn’t brought the tree. She’d lost her taste for it.

Mrs. Murphy and Tucker excitedly told Pewter everything.

Seething with envy, the gray cat grumbled, “You lie.”

4

Brother Morris, head of the Brothers of Love, was so filled with the milk of human kindness that he almost mooed. Would have been a big moo, too, since Brother Morris tipped the scales at 310 pounds. Now forty-eight, he attracted devotees due to his own story. Once a major tenor in opera, specializing in German roles, he had fallen from grace. Given his weight, it was a wonder he didn’t create a pothole in New York’s streets big enough for three taxis to disappear altogether.

Most stars prove difficult at one time or another. Directors of opera houses learn to deal with egos as oversize as the voices. Gender seems not to be a determining factor. Of course, there are good and bad in every bunch, and Brother Morris, known then as Morris Bartoly, gave little trouble. He never fussed over the size of his dressing room or the placement of it. He appreciated large food baskets, especially fruit, for he loved to eat, and a bracing brandy assisted the digestion. However, he never showed up drunk, was always on time, and was perfectly willing to work with other stars far less generous in temperament than himself.

In short, he was a dream star, which made his crash all the more scandalous. Brother Morris slept with both men and women. Not that that was anything new. He often slept with them simultaneously, although how either gender bore the bulk remains mysterious. Discreet in his selections, Morris often chose partners who were married and slavish fans of opera. Few, if any, suspected his desires for threesomes. What did him in was not the number of playmates. One husband accepting Brother Morris’s attentions just so happened to take pictures on his cell phone of the star servicing his wife, or was it vice versa? The sight of this behemoth performing various acts of copulation, dressed as a ballerina from Swan Lake, in specially made costumes, proved too much. The pictures on the cell phone showcased a thrilling dexterity for one so large. But, alas, when the news broke and he appeared onstage, he wasn’t booed off, he was laughed off.