Santa Clawed

Sweetwater. Removing them proved difficult because of the blood. Fabrics stuck together.
    When the corpse was finally unclothed, Dr. Gibson began his careful inspection before making the first cut.
    Mandy, on the other side of the corpse, said, “Eyes aren’t bloodshot.”
    “Good.” Emmanuel smiled. “So you know he wasn’t choked to death.”
    The old doctor enjoyed working with young doctors.
    As he went down the body, he talked, asking Mandy questions.
    Two hours later, out of his scrubs, he called Rick.
    “Dr. Gibson, what have you got for me?”
    “Well, Sheriff, same cut as on Christopher Hewitt, left to right, killer behind the victim. No bruises. No sign of struggle. The killer stood behind Speed.” He took a breath. “Obol under the tongue.”

M ore snowflakes twirled down as Harry mucked stalls. Outside, the horses played in the snow, kicking it up and running about.
    The cats cuddled on saddle blankets in the tack room, but Tucker stuck with Mom. The corgi dashed out of a stall.
    Harry leaned the large pitchfork against the stall and walked into the center aisle.
    Tucker barked,
“Cooper!”
    Pewter opened one eye.
“Can’t that dog shut up?”
    Opening the large double doors, Harry waved for Cooper to come inside the stable.
    Stamping her feet, Cooper walked in.
    “Coffee?”
    “This time it’s my turn for hot cocoa,” Cooper said.
    “Sounds like a winner to me.” Harry smiled as she led Cooper into the cozy room, redolent of sweet feed and leather with a hint of Absorbine, used to soothe aching muscles.
    “Harry.” Cooper sank into one of the director’s chairs. “Brother Speed was found dead this morning. Same M.O. as Christopher.”
    “Oh, no.” Harry put the cocoa tin down lest she drop it.
    Both cats opened their eyes wide now, and Tucker sat beside Cooper.
    “Tony Gammell found him on the tennis courts at the Keswick Club.”
    “Good Lord. I hope Nancy wasn’t at work.”
    “Luckily, Nancy Holt didn’t have any tennis lessons because of the high winds and snow.”
    “Well, she’s tough enough to go out in anything. I bet this upset Tony, too.”
    “Did.”
    Harry sat down, waiting for the water to boil. “I don’t get it.”
    “I don’t, either. You knew Brother Speed.”
    “Sure. He was a good horseman as well as rider.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Oh, there are plenty of people who can ride a horse, but a horseman is someone who truly knows how to care for horses as well as how to train them. Not a whole lot of those, and Speed was good. Very sensitive.” Harry appreciated that quality.
    “Ever see him gamble?”
    “No.”
    “What about Christopher?”
    “He ran football pools—pretty primitive, but it was high school.”
    “Ever see or hear about either one getting in trouble with women, especially married women?”
    “Christopher left Crozet to go to college, so I didn’t hear anything. Who knows? As for Brother Speed, well, a racing life is full of temptation.”
    “Both gambling and sex can run away with people, like drugs and alcohol. I’m looking for any kind of motivation for murder. Welched debts or angry spouses could qualify. Sometimes old habits reappear.”
    Harry thought about that. “I suppose it is hard to break an addiction, whatever it may be. But don’t you think the other brothers would know or at least suspect that Speed and Christopher were struggling?”
    “Time for another visit to the monastery.” Cooper rubbed her eyes. “I’m tired.”
    “Low-pressure system. Running into walls will poop you out, too.”
    “I’ve been doing enough of that,” Cooper ruefully said.
    “Maybe the murderer was abused by a priest or a monk. Given the breadth of the abuse in America, it’s not a long jump to assume that there are some people in Albemarle County who were molested. Maybe not by local priests but elsewhere.” She added, “There are so many new people to the area, and we don’t know their histories. The old families you know for generations. I mean, look at the Urquharts.” She mentioned Big Mim’s maiden name. “Someone could have just lost it. Maybe the abuse started one Christmas. Who knows?”
    “Once the trigger of an old, buried emotion is pulled, you can’t unpull it.” Cooper considered Harry’s idea.
    “The thing about the Brothers of Love is they’d be easy to get to. They’re out with the public, at the hospice, at the tree farm. If only we could figure out the reason…at least it would lead