Santa Clawed

Harry replied. “Look, it’s nuts, but she’s understandably out of it, and you…well, you all won’t be helpful at this moment.”
    “Thank you.” Brother Ed propelled Brother George into the old Volvo, another of the beat-up vehicles owned by the order.
    Before he closed the door, Brother George said again, “Don’t worry about this, Harry. Really.”
    It was a toss-up as to who felt most relieved when the two monks left, Brother George or Harry.
    After another hour of organizing, cleaning, throwing garbage into the back of trucks so people could dispose of it, Harry and Fair drove back to the farm.
    She’d told him about Tucker and Brother George.
    “Not like Tucker. For some reason she’s taken an extreme dislike to Brother George,” he said.
    “Won’t anybody listen to me?”
the dog whined in frustration.
    Back at the farm, the dog relayed events to the two cats. All three animals agreed to continue being alert.
    Finally in bed, Fair breathed a sigh of relief. “Emotional scenes exhaust me.”
    “Me, too. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Well, she’s drinking a lot. I expect she’s been loaded ever since the news was broken to her. I don’t know if she can control it anymore.”
    “I don’t know, either, but Racquel, who’s not a shrinking violet, still isn’t the type to scream at somebody in front of everyone, no less.”
    Harry flopped back on two propped-up pillows. “What else can go wrong?”
    She really should have known better than to ask that question.

S aturday, December 27, promised more snow. Cooper volunteered to work that weekend so she could have the next weekend off, when Lorenzo would be in town.
    Harry told her of the scene at Racquel’s. As it turned out to be a slow day, Cooper thought she’d drive to the monastery and ask a few more questions. Since no one was expecting her, she hoped to catch a few of the brothers off guard.
    She knocked on the large wooden door.
    No answer.
    She knocked harder this time. Finally the door swung open.
    Brother Luther invited her inside. “Is Brother Morris expecting you?”
    “No.”
    “Let me see if he’s available.” Brother Luther started to shuffle off.
    After a ten-minute wait in silence, Brother Morris swept in.
    “Officer Cooper, please come into my office.”
    She followed him. “Where is everybody?”
    “Working or praying. Here we are.” He swept his arm outward, indicating where she should sit. “Can I get you anything?”
    “No. I have a few questions. I won’t take up much of your time.”
    “Anything to help. These events are beyond terrible.” He settled in the oversize chair opposite hers.
    “Are you aware of Racquel’s outburst yesterday?”
    “Brother Luther told me. The poor woman. I’d called on her that morning and she showed no hostility toward me.”
    “Dr. Deeds treated many of the brothers, did he not?”
    “He was extremely generous.”
    “Did you ever have occasion to be with him during such times?”
    This surprised Brother Morris. “No.”
    “Did you ever see him in the hospice?”
    “Yes. He tended to our patients sometimes.”
    “Was any patient ever angry with him?”
    “No. Quite the contrary.”
    “Did you ever hear any whispers of Dr. Deeds making a mistake? Say a mistake that cost a patient his or her life?”
    This again surprised Brother Morris. “No. Again, Deputy Cooper, it was quite the reverse. He was above reproach in his profession.”
    “Ever hear or suspect he was having an affair or had had affairs?”
    A silence followed this.
    Brother Morris cleared his throat. “People talk.”
    “Tell me.”
    Shifting uneasily in his chair, he finally spoke. “There was talk about a liaison with a very pretty nurse. But you always hear that type of gossip. I certainly never suspected him of anything improper. I never even saw him flirting, and most everyone does that.”
    “No trouble with your brothers?”
    “No. Granted, Dr. Deeds wasn’t always sweetness and light. He was accustomed to giving orders.” He smiled. “I half-expected him to yell out, ‘Stat.’ He was a caring physician. Bryson truly cared about his patients’ welfare. I can’t believe he would be murdered, but then I can’t believe Brother Christopher and Brother Speed are gone, either.”
    “Do you know what an obol is?”
    “Of course. In ancient Greece, it was placed under the deceased’s tongue so they could pay Charon to ferry them across the River Styx.