Santa Clawed

liked the man, but I didn’t wish him dead, especially like this.”
    Tucker lifted her head and barked,
“Intruder.”
    Fair rose, then went onto the porch to open the door. “Brother Morris, come right on in.”
    Fair, like just about every Southerner you will ever meet, acted as though this unexpected visit was the most natural thing in the world and a big treat.
    Brother Morris, who hadn’t worn a coat because the distance to the door from his car was short, stepped inside.
    Harry had already poured his coffee. “Sit down, Brother. How good to see you.”
    His visit meant others would know she was alive. Susan would keep her secret until the workweek started, but she couldn’t tell Brother Morris to do so.
    “I apologize for dropping by without calling. Oh, thank you.” She put the half-and-half and cubed sugar before him.
    “You know the news, I assume, since the TV’s on.”
    “We just watched it. You mean Dr. Deeds’s murder?” replied Fair, who rose to turn off the TV.
    Having a TV on when a guest is in the room is considered rude in Virginia, unless they are there to watch with you.
    Harry placed waffles in front of Brother Morris, who knew he should wave them away but they smelled so delicious. He weakened immediately.
    “Fellows, I’m making more, so don’t hold back.” She turned the griddle back on and poured more batter. “Brother, what in the world is happening?”
    “I don’t know. Sheriff Shaw called me at six yesterday. I must pay a call to Racquel and the boys today. The Deedses have been so supportive of our order. I thought I’d stop by here first, because you’re on the way but also because you know—I should say knew—Bryson in another context than I did. St. Luke’s, I mean.” He looked over to Harry at the counter. “I thought maybe you had some insight. I feel like I should put up barriers to the monastery.”
    “Unless it’s someone within,” Harry blurted out as Fair tried not to drop his head in his hands.
    Sometimes Harry could open her mouth before weighing her words.
    “Never. I’d know. Can you think of anyone or any reason?” Brother Morris didn’t take offense.
    “I can’t. Fair and I were just discussing that.”
    Fair carefully placed his fork on his plate. “Whoever is doing this can’t live far. How would they get to Crozet or Afton Mountain with the weather? Brother, this person may not be in your brotherhood, but it must be someone with an intimate connection.”
    At the word “intimate,” Brother Morris raised his dark eyebrows. “I’ve sat with Brother George and Brother Luther, our treasurer. We’ve gone over the list of people who have supported us. We’ve even made lists of delivery people. No one jumps out at us, and no one has even had cross words with any of us. It’s baffling and frightening.”
    “Maybe it’s someone who’s mentally ill.” Harry flipped more waffles onto a plate.
    “Perhaps.” Brother Morris sounded mournful, even though he’d just inhaled two waffles.
    Harry had never seen food disappear so quickly in her life, and Fair could eat a lot himself.
    “I wish we did have some ideas,” Fair said.
    “Ah, well, it was a hope that maybe you knew something of Bryson’s character that I didn’t.”
    “The only thing I can say about Bryson is that his exceedingly high opinion of himself grated on some people,” Harry said. “But he also had some close friends, like Bill Keelo. Some people could take him and some couldn’t.”
    “That could be said of us all.”
    After finishing his waffles, Brother Morris thanked them profusely, and he thanked Harry again for the pitch pipe. When he reached the door he appeared to notice Harry’s deep cut for the first time as her baseball hat, a bit loose so as not to irritate the wound, slipped a little.
    “Harry, what did you do to your head?”
    “Low beam,” she replied with half a smile.
    “I thought that was something on a car,” he replied, half-smiling to himself as he left.

T he afternoon of Boxing Day, Harry, Fair, Susan, and Ned drove to Racquel’s, where Jean and Bill Keelo greeted them. Jean had organized everything, from answering the phones to keeping a notebook with information of who brought food. Miranda Hogendobber placed food on the dining-room table and kept the coffee going. The place was jammed with people.
    Bill Keelo and Alex Corbett made sure people had enough to eat and drink. They acted as unofficial ushers, in a sense.
    Susan