Santa Clawed

heading north.
    “How do you know the people you told to stay here won’t leave?” Harry considered the shoppers standing in the lighted square.
    “If they go, they’ll be suspect, which I made abundantly clear. I also took the precaution of punching their license plates into my computer.” Cooper kept a laptop in her squad car, as did the other officers.
    “Smart.” Fair nodded.
    “Procedure. Get as much information as you can as fast as you can without being obvious. People like to complain about the department, but then, people like to complain, period. We’re well trained.”
    Brother Sheldon, laid out like a log, nearly tripped Sheriff Rick Shaw, whose eyes immediately darted to the tree, then back to Brother Sheldon.
    “Is he dead?” Rick asked about Brother Sheldon as three other law-enforcement people walked with him, one with a camera.
    “No. Where’s Buddy?” Cooper meant the regular crime-scene photographer, who was a freelancer.
    Well prepared as the department was, the struggle for an adequate budget did create problems.
    “Doak will do it,” Rick said, then added, “Why would anyone take out a monk?”
    Doak called out from behind his camera. “Shine more light here, will you?”
    The other members of the sheriff’s department focused their flashlights on the corpse.
    Rick crossed his arms over his chest. “Doak, when you’re finished with the pictures, go get statements from the people up front. It’s cold, and they’ll want to go home.”
    “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