Santa Clawed

Tally.
    Tally’s only concession to her advanced age was the cane, but the old girl could travel along with it at amazing speed.
    The two men sat back down.
    Bill asked, “Think there’s anything we can do for the brothers?”
    Bryson shook his head. “Not really. Just help them continue to do their work.”

A murder such as Christopher Hewitt’s would cause a storm of speculation in any community. As it was, Crozet elevated gossip to a new art form.
    Cooper’s phone rang with the usual people who felt compelled to inform her of their ideas about Christopher’s murder. Not one scrap of evidence was transmitted. She listened patiently as she marveled at the human capacity for making pronouncements without a shred of research.
    “Assaulted by theories,” she had said of these calls to Rick, as he drove them up Afton Mountain. The trip revealed a beautiful view of the Rockfish Valley, which ran south of Route 64, parallel to the mountains.
    “Me, too. Most of the ones I’ve been enduring insist this goes back to his bringing down people in Phoenix. It might, but he parked his ass in the slammer. Of course, a person bent on revenge for their money losses might not have had time to kill him before he was put in jail.” He thought a moment.
    “Haven’t had as many calls as usual with a murder. Christmas has given people more to think about than Christopher Hewitt, I guess.”
    “Biddy Doswell told me he was dispatched by aliens.”
    Rick laughed. “Land in a flying saucer, did they?”
    Cooper shook her head. “No. These aliens are gnomes with mole feet and human hands. They dig up out of the earth. Gopher holes are their preferred exit, so we don’t notice anything strange.”
    “A gnome with mole feet and human hands, and that’s not strange.”
    “Biddy says we can’t see them.”
    “That’s convenient. The woman is all of twenty-five years old. Barking mad.” He sighed as they neared the top of the mountain, where they’d be turning south on the Blue Ridge Parkway. “What’s her theory about why they killed Christopher?”
    Biddy had earned her name because she was the smallest of five children, a little biddy thing.
    “They don’t like red beards.” Cooper shook her head in disbelief. “Red beards.”
    “It’s more than we’ve got to go on.” Rick had a vision of every man with a red beard being killed.
    “Her other helpful hint was that these gnomes like to have sex around the clock. They drink to excess, too.” She rooted around in her bag for a cigarette. “Wonder if her idea is wish fulfillment?”
    “Take one of mine.” He pointed to a pack of Camels he pulled from the back of the visor.
    She accepted the pack from him, taking a cigarette for herself and handing one to Rick. Fishing a sturdy Zippo from the glove compartment, she lit his cigarette while it was in his mouth and then lit hers. Each took a deep, grateful drag.
    “Swore I wasn’t going to get hooked, but I did.” Cooper sighed.
    “In our job it’s drink, drugs, violence, or cigarettes. People haven’t a clue the toll this kind of work takes on a person. I worry most about the guys who get addicted to violence. Sooner or later they cross the line, make the news, and all law-enforcement officers suffer. And in those big-city departments, they’re bombarded. Jesus.” He drew out the name of Jesus. “We see enough right here in Albemarle County.”
    “We sure do. What gets me is when we see murdered children—fortunately, very few. But we see a lot more abused children than anyone cares to admit. It’s like the whole damned country has its head in the sand.”
    “Yeah.” He wanted to kill people who harmed children, preferably with his bare hands. “Ownership. Think about it. Children have no rights. Their parents own them the same way they own a car. Ah, here we are.”
    “Before we deal with the brothers—do you mean that because children are chattel, owned, that people outside the family or the situation don’t want to interfere?”
    “Same as spousal abuse. People know, but they don’t want to get involved. I can understand it, but, guess what, we do get involved. When that call comes, we don’t have any choice. And family situations are the worst.”
    “Sure are. Well, let’s visit this big happy family,” Cooper said sarcastically, for she harbored a slight prejudice against aggressive do-gooders.
    Brother George, in his mid-forties and with a trimmed gray beard, met them at the door.