Santa Clawed

Morris’s voice was low.
    “Could he have had an affair with any women in the area?”
    “I doubt it. The usual signs—going off the grounds, staying out on some nights, being preoccupied—Brother Christopher never acted like that. This isn’t to say that he couldn’t have hidden it, but I don’t think he did.”
    “I would imagine that celibacy is a trial.”
    “You know, that depends on a man’s experiences in life, his age, and his drive. Some people don’t have a strong sex drive.”
    “Yes.” Rick pressed on. “Has there ever been money missing from the treasury?”
    “No. Brother Luther is a ferocious watchdog.”
    “Do you know Greek mythology?” Rick asked.
    “Thanks to opera I know more Norse mythology. Why?”
    “An obol was found under Brother Christopher’s tongue.”
    This puzzled Brother Morris, disturbed him slightly.
    “Whatever could that signify?”
    “I was hoping you’d know.”
    The rest of the questioning continued in this vein until, frustrated by their lack of progress, Rick and Cooper left.

F ascinated by the obol under the tongue, Harry called the classics departments at the University of Virginia, William & Mary, and Duke, where she had friends who taught the early historians.
    Given the thousands of years that the myths had persisted, slight variations existed concerning Charon. The standard version of him as a somewhat disreputable ferryman held sway. If you didn’t press an obol into his palm, you’d be stuck on the shores until you could beg, borrow, or steal the small sum. Given that one was dead, this could prove difficult, so the families of the deceased took great care to include the fare with the corpse. Since Greeks often carried small coins under their tongues—unthinkable with today’s money—it was natural to put an obol under the tongue as well.
    Nothing new transpired with her phone calls. Harry then called a local coin dealer, Morton Nadal, and was surprised to find a very upset man on the line.
    “Why are you asking me about the obols?” he demanded.
    “Uh, well, curiosity.” The small detail had not yet found its way into the ever-intrusive media.
    “Are you in on it?”
    “Sir, in on what?”
    “You’re the third person to call me about my obols. I have coins from Alexandria, Athens, Corinth, but it’s all obols.”
    “I’m sorry to bother you.”
    “What did you say your name was again?”
    “Mrs. Fair Haristeen. I live in Crozet.”
    “Hold on a moment.” After a brief interlude he again spoke: “Well, that’s a real name, but it may not be yours. The other two people gave fake names, although I didn’t check when they first called.”
    “Again, Mr. Nadal, I’m sorry. I only wanted to know if you’d sold any.”
    “Not a one. Some were stolen the night before last, I think, but I didn’t find out until today.” Before she could say anything, he added, his voice raised, “I’m meticulous, and no one broke in to the front of the house where I keep my collection.”
    “How do you think they were stolen?”
    “What’s it to you?”
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Nadal. I can see I’m a bother. I assume you called the sheriff.”
    “Did.” He hung up the phone.
    Harry then called Cooper, relaying the conversation.
    “He’s a piece of work and looks just like you think he would—a large ant with glasses.” Cooper exhaled. “Two people went into his house, a woman and a man. He gave a lax description, only that they were more young than old, the man distracted him, the woman took the obols.”
    “Why didn’t he find it out then?”
    “She’d put fake coins in their place—same size, anyway—and I guess he was in a hurry. I don’t know. He’s a weird little thing and so excitable.”
    “Nothing useful?”
    “Only that the man was largish, had a mustache and a big laugh.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Three obols were stolen.”
    “Three?”
    “Three.”

W
ho died and made you God?”
Pewter, tail moving slightly, spit at Tucker.
    “Jealous.”
Tucker smiled, then walked away from the angry gray cat.
    Tucker had stayed with Harry as Harry made all the phone calls. The cats had been in the barn.
    Mrs. Murphy, irritated herself, prudently did not insult the corgi.
“If you piss her off, she’ll never tell.”
    Pewter, upset though she was with the idea that a mere dog could consider herself superior to a cat, hated the idea of being uninformed even more. An argument could be made that the rotund kitty lived