Santa Clawed (17 page)

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. Why?”

“Brothers Speed and Christopher and Dr. Deeds all had an obol under their tongues.”

Brother Morris paled slightly. “How very strange.”

“Racquel thinks all these murders point here.”

He met her eyes. “They do. But why?”

“I hope to find out. Brother Morris, I don’t think there is a human being alive who doesn’t harbor some secrets. If you’ve been withholding something, please tell me. If it’s something illegal, I’ll do what I can for you. Given the situation, I need all the help you can give me.”

He sighed deeply. “I would have told you by now if there was something. That doesn’t mean a brother might not be covering up something, but there are no flashing red lights. The only thing that I return to is that Racquel was quite suspicious of Bryson. That’s not a secret, but perhaps she saw demons when there were none.”

“Perhaps, but there’s certainly a demon out there now.”

I
n the course of his practice, Bryson Deeds had treated people from all over the country. As they flew in to pay their respects, the house was never empty, which was a good thing, as it provided a distraction for Racquel. Miranda’s idea about the food turned out to be a good one. After St. Luke’s Sunday service, Harry and Fair swung by the Deedses’ house to deliver the food they’d kept overnight.

Racquel appeared more in control. The Haristeens stayed briefly, making sure that Miranda didn’t need anything.

Both breathed a sigh of relief when they walked through the door to their house.

“It’ll be worse after the funeral.” Fair untied his silk necktie. “People go home; your close friends call on you but, over time, they return to their normal routine. Then it really starts to sink in.”

“Does.” Harry pulled her slip over her head. “I’ll do the barn chores. I know you’ve got billings to send out.”

“It can wait.”

She pulled on her long, warm socks, followed by a quilted long-sleeve undershirt. “Racquel’s been unhappy for months, maybe longer. I didn’t see it then. I see it now.”

“Socially she seemed fine.”

“Most of us can pull it together socially. Looking back, though, I can see that she’s been increasingly unhappy, reaching for the bottle too much, I guess. She complained about Bryson a lot. Now I expect she feels guilty about it and has no chance to make it up to him.” She shrugged. “After this last week, I sure count my blessings.”

“I do, too.” He leaned over and kissed her. “You know, it’s snowing again.”

She looked out the window. “I’ll be.”

“Hey, let’s do the chores, then I’ll make a steak on the grill.”

The grill was on the back lawn.

“Fair, it’s colder than a witch’s bosom.”

He laughed. “Yeah, but the grill will work no matter what. You make a salad and then we can watch the movie I rented.”

“You didn’t tell me you rented a movie.”

“Every now and then it’s good to surprise you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about the partnership of Gilbert and Sullivan. Since you love their work so much, especially
The Mikado,
I figured it’d be worth a look. Alicia saw it and said it was one of the best films she’s ever seen about creativity.”

“Sounds intriguing. What’s the name?”

“Topsy-Turvy.”

That phrase would apply to the unfolding drama right here in Crozet.

O
n Monday, December 29, people kept talking about the weather and the murder of Dr. Bryson Deeds. The weather remained the main topic, particularly since large apple groves, hay fields, timber, corn, and soybeans added to people’s purses.

Rick and Cooper drove up the mountain, subpoena in hand. Thanks to Cooper’s urgings, Rick had sent a young officer to watch over Harry so Fair could get back to work.

“Coop, you have a way of pushing me in the right direction.”

“As long as I don’t push you in front of a car.” She smiled.

“When you called me after seeing Brother Morris, at first I didn’t think too much about it. Then I remembered that charity for dying children, remember?”

“Yeah, back in 1994. The lady from Connecticut who set up the riding program for dying kids. Slick, slick, slick.”

“She gets money for calm horses, a contractor builds a riding ring, another a barn, people see photos of these little kids hanging on to horses, and the money just pours in. All you have to do is show a picture of a child and people become instant suckers.” He sighed. “So I thought, what are the Brothers of Love doing? Sitting, praying, holding the dying. Granted, a dying adult lacks some of the heart-tugging appeal of a six-year-old hurtling toward the red exit light, but still, families grateful for their service might give large sums, and I’m willing to bet a tank of gas—”

She interrupted. “That much?”

He grimaced. “That much. One tank of gas that a lot have enriched the monastery’s coffers. Even the name ‘Brothers of Love’ could be a ploy.”

“Didn’t that woman, Kendra Something, walk off with close to three million smackers?” Cooper couldn’t imagine having such a sum all to one’s self.

“Damn straight she did. But she wasn’t as smart as she thought she was. They picked her up in ’97 in Belize. Sure lived the good life until then.”

“You know, if I were going to be a crook, I’d go the charity route, too. It’s the easiest way to steal. For one thing, accounting practices are different for 501(c)3 nonprofit corporations.” She mentioned not-for-profit corporations that are charities. “For another thing, people want to help, so you appeal to their higher instincts and lighten their purses. Beats armed robbery.”

“Except for robbing a bank or a Brinks truck. Gotta admit, there’s glamour to that, as long as no one is killed. Takes brains, planning, guts, and cool, cool nerve. When I think of the thousands of perps I’ve talked to in my career, most of them evoke disgust or fury. But those guys, I grant them a backhanded admiration.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She sat up straighter. “Well, we’re here. Want me to wear my coat, keep my sidearm concealed, or do you want me to go in exposed?” She grinned at that.

“If you went in truly exposed, I expect half of those guys would run screaming for their rooms. The other half would run for you.”

“What a pretty thing to say.” Cooper evoked the old phrase used to great effect by Southern women for generations. One’s tone indicated exactly how one felt about whatever had been said.

“Go in with sidearm showing. Just in case.” He cut the motor and they both sprang out.

Cops surf adrenaline surges. While the willingness to face violence and personal danger is part of their personalities, it’s also part of the high.

Rick knocked on the door. Knocked again.

At last the door opened and Brother Luther stood before them, dried blood on the side of his head, a shiner coming up, too.

“Brother Luther, what’s happened?” Rick quickly stepped inside, as did Cooper.

“Brother Morris and three of the brothers have disappeared. Brother Sheldon, Brother Howard, and Brother Ed rounded up whoever is left.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I was knocked out, and the others had been locked in their rooms. I finally found the keys.”

“Where are the brothers?”

“In the kitchen.” Brother Luther led them there without being asked.

Shocked faces turned toward the sheriff and his deputy.

Brother Sheldon wailed, “We’re ruined!”

“Will you kindly shut up.” Brother Ed’s nerves were frayed enough; he couldn’t withstand increased histrionics.

“Let him be, Brother Ed,” Brother Howard, sagging in his bulk, said. “Sheriff, we were going to call you, but first we wanted to figure out what happened.”

The other brothers nodded in agreement.

Cooper flipped open her notebook.

Rick began. “When did you discover you were locked in?”

“This morning. Rose for matins and couldn’t open the door,” Brother Howard, in charge due to his strong personality, informed them.

“They did it in the middle of the night,” Brother Ed, furious, spat out.

“Brother Luther, how did you wind up with jewelry?” Rick asked.

“Beg pardon?” Brother Luther’s head hurt.

“Sorry: jewelry, wounds,” Rick replied.

“I couldn’t sleep. So I got up around midnight and went to my office. I double-checked the books. They balanced, but I wanted to be sure. I’ve had a funny feeling about money lately, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts. There was a knock on the door. I answered. Brother Morris stood before me and that’s all I remember.”

“Did he take the books?” Rick appeared relaxed, but he was certain he was on the right track, eager to den his quarry.

“No. Left them as he found them.”

“Brother Luther, do you think he’d been pilfering funds?” Rick folded his hands together.

“It’s worse than that.” Brother Luther’s voice shook.

On cue, Brother Sheldon wailed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”

“Shut up!” Brother Ed seized Brother Sheldon’s arm, holding it in his vise grip. “None of us knew. Why the hell do you think we were left here?”

“It appears he left you funds to continue your work and to live here,” Cooper interjected.

“We can scrape by,” Brother Luther replied dourly.

“I thought your order had received big contributions,” Rick said.

“Yes, and that’s when I became suspicious,” Brother Luther said. “Those checks were given directly to Brother Morris or Brother George. I never saw them. Brother Morris always said he instantly put them into bonds. What a fool I was.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Brother Ed consoled him.

“I do the books. I should have asked to see those bonds. I didn’t.”

“If you did, you might be dead.” Brother Sheldon’s voice lifted to the teary note.

Brother Ed cast him a stern eye. “You’ve got a point there, Brother Sheldon.”

Calmly and deliberately, Rick asked, “Do you know where the money is?”

“Presumably with Brother Morris and Company.” Brother Luther dropped his head in his hands. “I think it’s a lot of money.”

Rick glanced at Cooper, a hint of triumph in his face, which soon enough shifted to disbelief. “So people gave large sums in gratitude for your services in Brother Morris’s name.”

“No, Brother Morris isn’t that dumb. He had to have an account with a bank or with a brokerage house similar to the one here.” Brother Luther was sharp as a tack in his own way.

“What do you mean?” Rick unfolded his hands.

“Since I never saw the account, I can’t give you a specific name, but an easy one would be to have the checks made out to BOL instead of Order of the Brothers of Love.” Brother Luther’s mind crept into underhanded accounting byways in an attempt to figure this out.

“A fairly straightforward scam.” Rick’s eyes met each brother’s gaze.

“No. It’s far more clever.” Brother Luther nodded to Brother Howard, who took over.

“My task for the order involved meeting people. You might say I am our public relations expert. I scheduled Brother Morris, I called on people. Brother George did, too, and I began to notice over the last two years…well, let me say that it wasn’t obvious to me at first, since my mind doesn’t run on that track.”

Rick almost uttered the words, “What track?” but he waited patiently.

“I swear I didn’t know,” Brother Sheldon whimpered again.

“I called on the more middle-class people. Brother Morris and Brother George called on the richer ones.”

“I’m not sure what the significance is,” Rick replied honestly.

“Bigger checks, obviously, but I also think that Brother Morris and Brother George identified people with Achilles’ heels.” He paused. “I expect they threatened to expose them.”

Cooper half-smiled. “Lucrative.”

Rick continued questioning. “What kind of Achilles’ heels?”

Brother Luther answered. “Gambling. Affairs. Shady business deals. And some of the affairs were married men with other men.”

“How do you know that?” Rick pressed.

Brother Sheldon, misty-eyed again and looking guilty, confessed, “Brother Christopher told me.”

“Brother Sheldon, you withheld evidence.” Rick sounded stern.

“How could I have revealed that?”

“What did Brother Christopher have to do with it?”

“He owed money,” Brother Sheldon said.

“To whom?”

“Alex Corbett.” Brother Sheldon’s chin wavered again.

“Don’t start blubbering, Brother Sheldon.” Brother Howard pointed a finger at him.

“Oh, shut up.” Brother Sheldon surprised everyone, then turned to Rick. “Alex runs a little betting business: football, horses, any large sporting event. Brother Christopher couldn’t resist the idea of winning money.”

“So?” Rick shrugged.

“He didn’t win.” Brother Sheldon stated what he thought was obvious. “He had to pay it off somehow.”

“How did he do that?” Rick kept his voice even.

“Sex for money.” Brother Sheldon cast down his eyes. “It was wrong, but I wasn’t going to rat on a friend.”

“With women?” Rick had to admire Brother Sheldon’s loyalty, even if somewhat misplaced.

“One man.”

“Let me be clear: Christopher Hewitt sold his body to a man?”

“He didn’t like it but the money was good. The man was head over heels.” Brother Sheldon wanted to make sure no one thought Brother Christopher was gay. “Brother Christopher was weak where money was concerned.”

“Who was his partner?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Guess.” Rick pushed harder.

“Bill Keelo or Bryson Deeds.”

Rick’s eyebrows shot up. “Your reasons?”

“Those were the men I saw him with, and they became increasingly helpful to our order.”

Brother Howard butted in. “You think Brother Morris figured it out?”

“Of course,” Brother Sheldon replied.

“Blackmail.” Brother Luther shuddered. “I knew it!”

“Why didn’t you come forward?” Rick forced his anger down.

“Didn’t know for sure.”

Cooper asked, “Was Brother Speed in debt, too?”

Brother Sheldon nodded. “He bet on the ponies.” He sighed deeply. “Money. Money is the root of all evil.”

“So they just wanted to pay off their debts?” Rick asked.

“Yes. They swore they’d stop gambling.” Brother Sheldon had believed them.

“And Brother Speed…uh, serviced a man, too.” Rick said more than asked, as he watched Cooper’s pencil fly over her notebook.

“The money is with men, Sheriff. I don’t think women will pay a lot for sex,” Brother Howard interjected.

“So it seems.” Rick was surprised, for he didn’t see this coming. “Speed’s client?”

“Either Bryson or Bill,” Brother Sheldon answered.

“And Bill and Bryson knew about each other.” Rick focused on Sheldon.

“They’d met the brothers together. At the Christmas tree farm or at the hospice. And they had good reasons to be there. They didn’t arouse suspicion.”

Brother Luther allowed himself an acid comment. “Bill Keelo tried to cover himself by being publicly homophobic. Ass.”

Brother Sheldon, scandalized at the language, chided, “That’s enough.”

“Two men are dead and you’re worried that I said ‘ass’?” Brother Luther snorted.

“So the question is, who was blackmailed and who killed?” Rick rubbed his jaw.

“Well, I can tell you Brother Christopher never blackmailed anyone.” Brother Sheldon got misty again. “He tried to reform. He did. But easy money corrupted him. The flesh is weak.”

“Obviously.” Cooper’s comment was fact.

“Blackmail.” Brother Luther said the chilling word again and shook his head.

“I don’t know if the order can recover from this,” Brother Howard mournfully said.

Brother Luther replied, “People will always need help with the dying.”